


if you hadn't been you

by somethingaboutwriting



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dragons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magic Revealed, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Online Romance, Secret Identity, Secrets, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27970376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingaboutwriting/pseuds/somethingaboutwriting
Summary: "Merlin twisted round in his new chair as Arthur scowled over his shoulder. 'He could be anyone, you know.''I got that part, yes,' Arthur said flatly.'I’m just saying. He could be some creepy murderer for all you know. He could have magic!'A flush crept across the back of Arthur’s neck. He turned fully to reply. 'I don’t care, alright? Why are youstill talking to me?'Merlin ignored the last part, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. 'You would date a murderer?'"A You've Got Mail AU in which Merlin owns a magic shop, Arthur works for his father in politics and they cannot stand each other. EmrysHimself and SirKnight, on the other hand, have struck up a burgeoning romance...
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 204
Collections: Merlin Holidays 2020





	if you hadn't been you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deli (deliciousirony)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliciousirony/gifts).



> This fic was very much out of my comfort zone, but so much fun to write! I couldn't help myself when I saw the prompt for a You've Got Mail AU, since I love that movie. I tried to keep the magic element, as requested, and work in as much mistaken identity and two-person love triangle shenanigans as I could ;) I hope you enjoy, deli!! Happy Holidays!
> 
> Thank you to my sister for keeping me on track and being the best cheerleader, and an eternal thank you to Meg and to Mia for being betas despite never having seen the movie. I couldn't do this without you guys!

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I still can’t believe you’re moving to London. You’ll love it here, I promise— despite the rain. If you need any recommendations, let me know. I’m a bit of a savant. (Meaning I’ve lived here my whole life, so I know which bits are actually good and which are just there to impress tourists.)

And you never know… maybe now you’re here, we’ll be able to meet in person someday. Not yet, though. There’s something charming about the not knowing, don’t you think? Now that the internet _usually_ means that you know way too much about even the vaguest acquaintance. 

I wish you all the best with that new project, too. Honestly, you’re making me feel a bit boring, what with all the changes happening in your life. Whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll turn out grand.

PS: Here’s a starter first tip. Big Ben? Completely overrated.

*****

“…which is this weekend, so make sure your Saturday is clear.” 

Arthur hummed absently and refreshed his AlbionOnline inbox. The little blue circle chased itself over and over, but when his screen popped back into place it came up with nothing. 0 New Messages. He supposed that was to be expected; he’d only sent the message a little over an hour ago, and certainly the man on the other side of the screen had better things to do than sit on his phone all day. Arthur couldn’t fault him for that.

Still, that logic didn’t stop him from dragging his messages down and releasing them again, starting the process all over.

“Arthur. Are you listening?”

“Hm?” Arthur shut his phone off with his thumb and stashed it in his pocket. “Course I am. Saturday. Noted.”

The piercing stare he received in return let him know that Morgana wasn’t buying that in the slightest. “And remind me _why_ you need Saturday night free?”

“For the… thing you were telling me about. Obviously.”

“You’re hopeless,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “It’s Gwen’s birthday. And you can’t miss it again this year, no matter what campaign thing dear old dad tries to force you into.”

“I’ll try. You know better than anyone what an important time it is for him.” But Arthur felt more than saw her answering glare, so he relented. “Barring any emergencies, I’ll be there, alright? I promise.”

Their father happened to be the current prime minister of England, and Arthur his campaign manager. The next election was just over a month away and so he was pretty much drowning in responsibilities: events to organize, flyers to send out, speeches to prepare…

A cab honked loudly as they crossed the street. London wasn’t quite as gray as usual, but it seemed the better weather hadn’t improved anyone’s mood. Arthur and Morgana took the same walk together every morning to work, and he sometimes found it uncanny just how little it changed from day to day. 

When they arrived at their usual spot for tea, Arthur swung the door open for her and made a semi-sarcastic ‘after-you’ motion. Morgana made a face at him as she passed, heels clicking against the tiled floor.

“She’s got someone staying with her, apparently,” Morgana said as they got in line. “Tall dark and handsome type, going on the photos she sent me as he was settling in. Hopefully not a twat.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. I don’t think it’s possible for Gwen to be friends with someone horrible.”

“She’s friends with you, though, isn’t she?”

“Very funny.”

They reached the register soon after that. Morgana ordered for the both of them while  Arthur pulled out his phone again. Still nothing.

When he looked back up, she was staring at him with her arms crossed. “I swear you spend every other minute on that thing lately. Do we need to have an intervention? Set up some designated tech times?”

Arthur scowled. “I’m not allowed to check my email?”

“Not that often, you’re not.” 

“It’s for work,” he lied, taking their drinks from the barista. “Like I said, it’s an important time right now. People need to be able to get in touch.”

Morgana accepted her tea from him with narrowed eyes, but didn’t comment. She sipped it quietly as they strode back out into the street, her lipstick making a red smudge on the lid. 

The whole thing had been a sort of accident. Arthur had been curious about AlbionOnline, a new anonymous messaging system that promised to give the feeling of the internet “in the good old days” and he’d only planned to spend less than an hour on it before closing it forever. But when he started talking to Emrys… it felt different. Their conversation just kept going, and neither of them had wanted to stop.

So here he was, weeks later, waiting on messages from a complete stranger.

A couple blocks away from Morgana’s office, Arthur noticed a new sign out of the corner of his eye. It was on a wide storefront that had been abandoned for years, framed in dark wood arches and decorated with a set of stained glass windows. It read:

COMING SOON: AVALON, YOUR ONE STOP SHOP FOR ALL THINGS MAGICAL, CREATED BY RENOWNED WARLOCK AMBROSIUS! 

Arthur wrinkled his nose. He didn’t realize he’d stopped in front of it until Morgana slowed and glanced over her shoulder back at him, then to what had caught his attention. Her eyes widened and she let out a shocked laugh.

“Uther’s going to have an aneurism,” she said, shaking her head.

“It’s just what I need,” Arthur said with a glare at the sign. “More complications.”

“Film his face when he finds out for me, will you? It’ll make my day.”

Arthur graciously ignored that, turning away from the building pointedly and continuing down the street. “A magic shop won’t last the week in London, everyone knows how dangerous it is. I’ll bet they don’t get a single customer.”

The truth was, if his father was reelected, it probably wouldn’t be allowed to stay open anyway. His stance on magic had always been public knowledge. Throughout his run, he’d imposed more and more laws about how, when and where it should be used, to controversial reception. It was one of Uther’s biggest campaign issues. Especially given his young opponent, Kara Iseldir, who was dead-set on repealing them and was a known sorceress.

“Remember,” Morgana said as she climbed the steps to her office. “Saturday night. No excuses.”

“Got it.”

“And bring a present!”

Arthur rolled his eyes and waved as she backed through the doors. 

It was as he turned away that he felt it: that telltale buzz in his pocket. He drew it out and smiled.

1 New Message. Arthur had mail.

*****

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

Too late on Big Ben: saw it on my first day here! I don’t much trust your opinion now, though; I thought it was lovely. Perhaps after a while of living here I’ll be more cynical of it like you. 

The move’s been great so far. It feels strange, going from somewhere where you recognize everyone on the street to no one. It seems impossible to make friends when everyone’s already so settled. A friend of mine’s having a get-together, though, so hopefully I’ll meet some people there.

Truth be told, I’m a little nervous for it. Firstly because if no one likes me then I have no plans for how to meet people otherwise, and secondly because one a couple of the guests have some… not so favorable reputations, I suppose. My friend says it’s mostly talk, but I’m not sure. I guess I’ll find out then!

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

If you’re any bit as charming in person as you are online, you’ll have nothing to worry about.

*****

Gwen’s place wasn’t too far from Arthur’s flat. She and Morgana had been childhood friends, and as kids they made a pact never to live more than an hour away from each other. They’d never once broken it. 

It was all done up in streamers and balloons when Arthur arrived. Gwen answered the door with a bright smile and accepted a kiss on the cheek and the wrapped gift he handed her (a set of earrings Morgana had recommended). He wished her a happy birthday as she ushered him inside, taking note of the familiar and unfamiliar faces of people chatting in the living room. Morgana winked at him from the sofa.

Conversation was a little louder than normal over the music in the background. Arthur nearly missed Gwen asking what he would like to drink, and Leon had to clap him on the shoulder to get his attention, intercepting him on his way to put away his coat.

“Arthur. It’s good to see you out of the office.”

Arthur huffed a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t get used to it. This’ll probably be my last free night for the next month.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

Leon had worked with Arthur on his father’s first campaign. They were fast friends, keeping each other sane in the sheer chaos of it all. He was one of the most level-headed people Arthur had ever met. He would’ve been useful in this campaign, too, but when Arthur had asked he’d shaken his head sheepishly and said he’d moved on. It was a shame.

They made a bit of small talk, about the campaign and Leon’s new job, until Elyan dragged him away to do a shot. As he returned Leon’s little wave goodbye, Arthur remembered the coat under his arm, and headed to the spare bedroom to throw it on the pile with the rest.

When he entered, however, it was not to the familiar sight of a bare mattress covered in jackets, but to a man stretched out on top of a comforter, typing away at his laptop. His head snapped up at the sound of the door opening, and suddenly Arthur was faced with a pair of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. 

“Er- Hi?” said the man, sitting up. 

Arthur cleared his throat, momentarily distracting by the man’s… everything. (Messy black hair. Long legs. High cheekbones. Rounded lips.) “Sorry, you must be Gwen’s houseguest. Normally this is where she puts coats, but I guess not… anymore…”

“They’re in the dining room,” said the man, a smile ghosting across his face. He shut his laptop and pushed himself off the bed. Arthur’s stomach did a traitorous little swoop as he approached and was just a _smidge_ taller than him. “I’m Merlin.”

“Arthur Pendragon,” he replied, shaking the proffered hand. 

Something shifted ever so slightly in Merlin’s expression. “Right. Morgana’s brother?”

“That’s me. Although now I’m afraid to know what she’s told you about me. I swear I’m nicer than she is.”

Merlin laughed. “Don’t worry. Any friend of Gwen’s is a friend of mine.” Then he took Arthur’s coat from him. “Here, you can make me seem like a good host.”

“Happy to help,” Arthur said with a grin, then followed him to the dining room.

“Morgana says you work for your dad?”

Arthur nodded. “I’m the campaign manager. He figured no one would know what he wanted better than his own son, so… it works. What about you?”

“Oh, ehm…” Merlin draped Arthur’s coat over the back of a chair. “Nothing so interesting as that. Is it stressful?”

“Sometimes. It’ll be a lot more so soon.”

“How come?”

Arthur sighed. “There’s a magic shop opening. My father doesn’t know about it— not yet, at least— but when he does he’s gonna make a huge deal of it. And if it’s successful it won’t reflect well on him.”

Merlin leaned his back against the wall with a curious expression. “He’s going to be bothered by one shop?”

“Doesn’t matter what it is. If it’s magic, it bothers him.”

Gwen came in then with his drink. Her eyes widened when she saw the two of them together. “I didn’t realize the two of you had met!”

“We did just a minute ago,” said Merlin with a little smile. 

Gwen handed Arthur his glass and tilted her head. “Ehm, Morgana’s asking for you. She wants to beat you at Pong.”

Arthur laughed. “Challenge accepted. It was nice to meet you, Merlin.”

Merlin nodded. “You too.”

Arthur, shocking absolutely no one, lost at Pong. Several times over.

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

So? How’d it go?

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

Pretty well— I was pleasantly surprised. That one bloke with the reputation was… actually pretty nice. I’m not 100% sold, but, y’know. It was a good start.

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

Now you’re going to make me jealous!

In all seriousness: I’m happy for you, but I’d be careful. People don’t get reputations for nothing. Sometimes they’re just good at hiding it. 

*****

They passed that shop every day before work. Arthur glared at the shelves inside every time, as if he could stop them being set up with enough disapproval. Sort of like those plants that won’t grow as well if you shout at them every day. 

Predictably, that technique didn’t work, and the day came that the shop opened: covered in bright lights, sparks flying behind the windows, folks bustling around with books full of who knows what. 

It’s not that Arthur hated magic. He really didn’t. He wouldn’t care about the shop at all, honestly, if it weren’t for his father’s crusade against it everything it stood for. Having a place so pro-magic right in the centre of the city would make for discussion, for debate, and he knew that Uther will land squarely on the negative side. And that was going to make Arthur’s job significantly harder. People were already pushing back against his opinions on magic as it was. Arthur had rather hoped, perhaps naively, that they’d be able to avoid the subject entirely in the lead-up to the election.

Morgana paused as they passed by, staring in, almost intrigued. 

“No,” Arthur said, knowing exactly what she was thinking. “Absolutely not. I can’t be seen in there.”

“Aren’t you curious?” she asked. “Come on, you can scout the place out. For the campaign.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s high on your list of priorities.”

Morgana was already pushing the double doors open. Arthur groaned and wished belatedly that he had worn something with a hood to pull over his face. Looking around outside as though Uther might have spies watching him, Arthur followed her.

The entrance was a wide foyer lined with shelves to either side and a cash register at the centre-back. Deep red carpeting covered the floor and continued all the way up the wooden staircases along the walls, which led up to a balcony overseeing the room. From the railings grew leafy vines that curled themselves around the handholds like thick snakes and moved just as visibly. The ceiling was painted with enchanted solar systems that spun by themselves.

Arthur couldn’t help but be a little impressed. 

It was clearly a successful opening: the aisles were packed with people scanning the spines of magical books, swirling corked potions around, cooing at— _Christ_ — a few cat-sized dragons through their enclosures. A small illusory unicorn made of sparks galloped above their heads. One employee in the corner was doing a demonstration where he animated a little girl’s dolls and had them perform a waltz.

People adored the place already. Which meant it was going to make Arthur’s life a living hell.

And those people seemed to include Morgana, who was staring around with poorly-concealed awe. She didn’t even look back to see if Arthur had come with her— she just walked slowly forward, reading each and every sign, darting her eyes between different displays of magic. Arthur tugged his jacket tighter around himself, as though that would prevent him from being recognized. 

Reluctantly, he came up beside her as she approached the dragon enclosure. There were three: one red, one black and one a pearlescent white. They mostly ignored the people who approached, either chasing each other around or lying quietly in the sawdust. When Morgana came near, however, the white one raised its head as though it was attuned to her presence.

Morgana smiled as it padded up to the glass between them and waggled her finger at it. It let out a puff of smoke in response. 

“She likes you,” said someone behind them. Their voice was deep and sort of gravelly in a way Arthur recognized— Merlin, from Gwen’s party. He gave them a tight sort of smile when they turned to look at him, and Arthur was so momentarily distracted by his closed-off body language that he nearly missed the golden dragon _asleep around his shoulders_.

“I’d be worried about getting my ears bitten off if I were you,” said Arthur, gesturing at it. “I wouldn’t think they’d let people take them out of their cages.”

A resigned look came across Merlin’s face before he answered. “Actually,” he said, “this one’s mine. His name’s Kilgharrah. And that—” he pointed at the white one— “is Aithusa.”

“She’s beautiful,” Morgana said, finally tearing her eyes away. “I haven’t seen a dragon in person for years.”

“They’re rare,” Merlin explained. “And rather choosy who they interact with. Most of the time, they’ll only bond with one person. It seems Aithusa has taken a liking to you.”

Arthur felt like he was missing something. Here was the person he’d complained about the magic shop to, giving his sister a detailed description of dragon habits like he was an expert. And owning one himself, no less.

“How come you’re so knowledgeable?” Arthur asked. 

“Well—”

“Mr. Ambrosius, would you like this in the healing section or magical creatures section?” interrupted one of the young workers, staring straight at Merlin expectantly.

Merlin flitted his eyes between her and Arthur for half a second before he answered. “Healing.”

And then it clicked into place.

“You’re the _owner_ ,” Arthur said, in a more accusatory tone than he meant to.

“Merlin Ambrosius,” he said. Not even trying to deny it. “My flat’s in the back, but we were using it for storage until we opened, so I couldn’t use it. That’s why I was staying with Gwen.”

Now, Arthur wasn’t often made a fool of. He was paid to know exactly what was going on at all times, to keep on top of things, to never be caught off guard. He was rarely out of the loop on anything. And so it was unbearable to face the realization that not only was Merlin, a man he’d been _attracted to,_ the creator of something that was actively going to make his life worse, but that Arthur had complained about it directly to his face without even knowing. 

So rather than come to terms with that embarrassment, Arthur went on the offensive.

“Thought it would be funny to talk to me at the party, then? Or were you just trying to get information on my father?”

“Arthur—” Morgana started to interrupt.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” said Merlin tightly. “I was trying to give you a chance.”

“How very generous of you.”

Merlin didn’t seem shaken by the sudden change of tone— in fact, he started to smile in a sour, biting sort of way like he’d been prepared for this turn of events. He wasn’t losing composure at all. Which only made Arthur want to push it more. “It is, actually, since now I’ve caught you snooping around so you can report back to your daddy’s men.”

“That would assume there’s anything of worth to snoop on,” Arthur said. “And for the record, my father is a great man, and he doesn’t need information on your precious little shop.”

Merlin laughed humorlessly. “Right. Fine chap, apart from all the time he spends trying to get rid of people like me.”

“He’s not trying to get rid of people,” Arthur corrected. “He’s trying to get rid of this.” He gestured around the room. “Magic is dangerous. It’s not a game.”

“And you’re the expert, are you?”

“No, as I’ve just found out, that’s you.”

Merlin shook his head incredulously, like he couldn’t believe people like Arthur really existed. “You’re a right bigoted arse, you know that?”

“And you’re a lying prick.”

“ _Arthur_.” Morgana’s voice cut in like a whip. “We’re leaving. Now.”

People at nearby shelves were shooting the three of them some curious, not-so-subtle sidelong glances. Morgana’s hand closed like a vice around his forearm and she dragged him unceremoniously out the front doors. 

The adrenaline of the argument began to fade as she marched slightly ahead of him on the sidewalk. Her fuming silence gave him enough time to acknowledge, eventually, that perhaps it wasn’t the brightest idea to have picked that fight. Especially with so many people around— he was lucky it hadn’t been recorded. Arthur losing his temper on record could put a stain on Uther’s run, something he definitely didn’t need.

Best to just put it behind him and move forward with his work on the campaign with more conviction than ever. 

After all, he didn’t plan on crossing paths with _Merlin Ambrosius_ ever again.

*****

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

Re: That first impression.

NEVERMIND.

You were right.

You remember the bloke I told you about? The one with the bad rep but good manners? He just went completely berserk on me at work. Proved to be every bit the person I thought he would be before I met him. Clearly, he was just saving face the first time round. I suppose it’s my own fault. I tricked myself into believing he could be a good person, I overthought it, I created a different man in my head to the one that actually exists. Sometimes people _are_ simple.

But I like seeing the good in them, you know? Normally it exists. There are a lot of people who, if given half a chance, could be really great, and they just don’t know it yet. I like giving them that little push.

Not this one. I’ve decided he’s not worthy of my help after a stunt like that. He can stay awful the rest of his life for all I care.

I’ve learned my lesson! I should trust your advice more in future.

PS: If anything good has happened to you recently, please tell me about it. I’m in desperate need of a pick-me-up.

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I’m afraid I won’t be much help in the cheering-up department— I had a similarly unpleasant run-in today. If it’s any comfort, my first impression of that person was entirely wrong as well. Although that probably means you should reconsider the value of my advice, since I can’t even follow it myself.

I hope the experience hasn’t jaded you. Finding out that people are terrible is never fun, but it doesn’t mean there aren’t still good ones. I’m sure there are a lot of folks who would benefit greatly from your help. And all you can do with the bad ones is prove them wrong.

As for the arse in question, though, I’ll return to this age-old wisdom: when someone shows you who they are, believe them. 

(In colloquial terms: he can go fuck himself.)

*****

As much as the incident at Avalon was embarrassing, Arthur had to admit it lit a fire under his arse. He was paying attention to the little details, working longer hours, canvassing in his spare time, convincing people of their arguments. Busy as Uther was, he even spared a moment to tell Arthur that he was impressed. 

Arthur was taking his own advice this time: he was going to prove Merlin _wrong._ Magic was dangerous, and government officials like his father should be treating it as such. 

“You really believe that, don’t you,” said Morgana in a strange tone of voice one night. She was at Arthur’s flat for dinner and was watching the wine swirl around in her glass, not really looking at him as he put the chicken in the oven.

“I trust our father,” Arthur replied, shrugging. “He wants what’s best for our country. If he believes this is the way, then I’m with him.”

She didn’t say anything to that at all.

There was one increasingly maddening issue through the weeks, however, which was that Arthur kept seeing Merlin _everywhere._ Behind him at the supermarket, across the street from his usual café, flying his damned dragon around in the park. Even if Arthur didn’t agree with his politics, he could admit that he may have overreacted at the shop, and so he was growing rather adept at ducking behind trees and shelves (depending on the location). And all this despite his best efforts to avoid the man altogether; he’d even convinced Morgana to take a different route to work. 

He didn’t think Merlin had ever seen him— or at least, if he had, he hadn’t let Arthur know about it— but with all the narrow misses Arthur was bound to get unlucky at least once. 

Which is what happened, coincidentally, at one of Uther’s biggest speaking events. It was being hosted in a conference hall so large one could argue it was a ballroom, and all the biggest names in politics would be attending— including, rumor had it, his opponent Kara.

In the lead-up, Arthur spent so much time worrying and preparing everything for _Uther_ that somehow, as he was suiting up and leaving, he forgot his damn ticket at home. Worse, Morgana wasn’t answering her phone. Meaning Arthur was stuck outside, begging an unimpressed security guard to _please, god, let me in, I’m his son, I’m Arthur Pendragon, I have to be in there._

“No ticket, no entry, mate.”

Arthur ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “Look, if you can just get my sister out here, or even just one of my father’s assistants, they’ll recognize me, they’ll show you I’m not lying.”

The line of people in black tie behind him were starting to make impatient noises. Arthur fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture of him and his father together. 

“See? That’s me and him. I’m his campaign manager. Isn’t there a list or something?”

“I don’t care who you are. If you don’t have a ticket, I can’t let you in. That’s how it works.”

Arthur opened his mouth to argue when a familiar voice spoke up from behind him. “Something the matter?”

Arthur’s heart sank. He cleared his throat and pasted on a smile to greet Merlin (who didn’t look _at all_ handsome in his suit and tie, thank you very much, he was the _enemy—_ ) “Not at all, thanks.”

“He hasn’t got a ticket,” said the guard. Arthur glared.

Merlin looked between them, like he was considering something. Then he reached into his coat pocket and withdrew his ticket. “He’s with me. My plus-one.”

The guard took the ticket and examined it for a moment. He squinted at the pair of them, and then rolled his eyes. “Fine. Just stick together next time, hey?”

“Sure thing,” said Merlin, putting on a charming smile that rivaled Arthur’s. He fought not to flinch away when Merlin put a hand on his back and steered him into the hall. 

“Why. Would you do that,” Arthur asked shortly, once they were out of earshot. “And why do you even have a ticket?”

Merlin smiled a bit bemusedly, putting his hands back in his pockets and restoring Arthur’s personal space. “I hadn’t used my plus-one. And the things our prime minister says tend to have an impact on my life. I like to stay updated. Force of habit, I suppose.”

“Habit?”

“Of helping people who don’t deserve it.” The corner of Merlin’s mouth quirked up— it seemed Arthur had to do very little to amuse him. “This is normally the part where I would tell people to pay it forward, but with you…”

Arthur bristled. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Merlin shrugged. “Then fine. Pay it forward, Pendragon.” He started to back away, giving a mocking little two-fingered salute.

A voice in Arthur’s head (that sounded suspiciously like Morgana’s) was telling him that, just then, he was proving Merlin _right_ about him. So just as he was about to disappear into the crowd, Arthur did something he only managed to do very, very rarely. 

He swallowed his pride.

“Merlin,” he called. Merlin turned back around, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Thanks.”

The returning smile was the most genuine he’d ever received from Merlin. Small, certainly, and a bit more skeptical than Arthur would like, but real. 

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

Then he was gone. 

Later, when Arthur made the gracious decision _not_ to rip into Morgana about never answering her phone, he considered his ‘random acts of kindness’ debt settled.

*****

The campaign had been going far too well for far too long— Arthur should have expected a curveball. It had lulled Arthur into a false sense of security, when he should have known it was too good to be true. 

He shouldn’t have been shocked when everything changed at Uther’s next press conference. 

When a reporter asked Uther what his plans for magic were if he got a second term, he did not reply in the way he and Arthur had practiced. The way that they had outlined to combat Kara’s battle cry of suppression and hatred and fear. He did not make a statement about putting the people’s security first, about remaining cautious and vigilant. He did not remind everyone never to stray from legalized usages. 

Instead, Uther proclaimed, before the media, all his supporters and all his opponents, before the entire country, that if he was reelected then magic would no longer be tolerated in England. Use of sorcery would be a criminal offense. 

The room exploded with questions. Uther excused himself from behind the podium, a self-satisfied look on his face.

Arthur could feel Morgana’s fury radiating off of her from beside him but couldn’t pay attention to it. His brain was unable to process what had just happened. They had never cleared that. Uther had never even mentioned it. Why would he say something they hadn’t cleared? Why would he say _that?_

Morgana rose from her seat in one smooth motion, striding with purpose to the back room where Uther had retreated. Arthur followed her after a beat, still reeling.

“You can’t do this,” he heard her say as he shut the door behind them. 

“I can, and I will,” Uther said indulgently. He had a habit of speaking to her like she was still eight years old, like she was still the little girl she’d been when her adopted father died and she started to live with them. He smoothed his suit jacket down as he spoke. “Magic-users have had free reign in this country for far too long. It’s time to put a stop to it.”

“Arthur?” Morgana pleaded, frustrated, whirling around to him for help. 

“How long were you planning this?” Arthur asked. Ever playing the middle.

“A few months now. Surely you realize this has always been the plan.”

“People rely on magic for their livelihoods.” Morgana’s gaze was made of steel. “And some people don’t even ask for it, they get stuck with it, but they make the best of it. You’re going to take that away from them?”

“They’ll find work elsewhere,” Uther said. “It’s their own fault if magic is their only talent.”

“There will be pushback,” Arthur said quietly. The only level he was capable of operating on then, apparently, was damage-control. “A lot of people aren’t going to agree.”

“In time, they’ll see I was right.”

Morgana looked back and forth between them. Arthur swore he could see tears in her eyes. “This is madness,” she choked out, before storming out of the room.

Uther looked unconcerned. “She’ll come around,” he said.

Arthur didn’t answer. 

“I’ll be glad to have your support in this,” he continued, a bit of an edge to his tone now, clapping a hand to Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur nodded mutely and Uther smiled. “Good. Your mother would be proud.”

Then Uther left, too, drumming up a conversation with one of his advisors. A rusted wire of guilt wound itself around Arthur’s lungs. 

For perhaps the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do.

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I don’t think I’ve ever told you about my dad. I know we agreed no personal information, but— I need to talk about this with someone, so I’ll keep it as vague as possible. I swear.

He’s always been… stubborn. My mum died when I was born, and I don’t think he was ever the same. Maybe it broke something in him. I don’t know. But now he’s got all this hate, all this anger, all this fear, so much it scares me sometimes. So much I don’t even understand it. And I try not to think about it, but honestly, it scares me how much he’s passed that on to me.

But now I think he’s going to do something bad. Like, really bad. And I don’t know what to do. I’ve always gone along with him, always done whatever he needs doing, but with this, I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I should. Although there might not be anything I can say that would stop him.

I guess I need some advice.

What would you do in my place? Is your father just as difficult?

Arthur pressed send, then leaned back in his office chair and sighed. Even if Emrys wouldn’t reply for a while, it lifted a small bit of the weight in his chest just writing it all out.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for a small chat box to pop-up in the corner of his screen.“EmrysHimself” was written across the top with a small green circle blinking next to it.

EmrysHimself: Good timing. Got on my computer and saw you had just sent a message. Had a feeling you might still be online!

EmrysHimself: Don’t know how much insight I’ll have about father-son relationships, though. I never really knew my dad.

Arthur stared at the screen, frozen. Sending messages back and forth over several hours was one thing, but speaking in real time? It felt different. Too close for comfort.

But he knew that on Emrys’s screen, there had to be a green light next to Arthur’s name, too, so there was no avoiding it. He rolled his chair closer to his desk and set his hands to his keyboard, considering.

SirKnight: I’m sorry. That must be difficult.

EmrysHimself: Me too. About your mum. 

EmrysHimself: Maybe if you tell me a little more about the situation, I can be a neutral third party?

Arthur took a deep breath. He typed the question out slowly, and hovered his finger over the enter key for a good thirty seconds before sending it.

SirKnight: How do you feel about magic?

Emrys took longer than usual to respond. Arthur fought hard not to regret asking.

EmrysHimself: I’m trying to figure out how to say this without giving too much personal info.

EmrysHimself: Magic, to me, is everything. It’s my whole life. It’s who I am. According to my mum, I was moving things with my mind before I even learned to talk. Sometimes I think I can feel it, warm in my chest, like this amazing gift, but also this incredible burden. I don’t know who I would be without it. People think it’s a choice, that we seek power, but that’s not true— I was destined to use magic. To make things better with it. EmrysHimself: So what’s happening right now in politics scares me. I don’t want to have to hide who I am. I’ve done too much of that in the past, and I’ve outgrown it.

After a few seconds of Arthur not responding, Emrys sent yet another message.

EmrysHimself: What about you? 

Arthur pressed his lips tightly together. 

SirKnight: Not sure yet. 

He left that a few beats, then:

SirKnight: Magic is what killed my mum.

Another long pause.

EmrysHimself: I’m sorry to hear that.

Arthur’s hands were shaking over the keyboard.

SirKnight: Thank you for your help. Truly.

Then he shut his laptop down.

*****

The next few weeks were complete mayhem.

Kara got up and made a few speeches, about discrimination and prejudice and fear, and her points were tough to combat. Especially since Arthur wasn’t sure he wanted to combat them. 

It was incentivizing people, too— magic-users all across the city would fill the streets, putting on parades and protests showing off their skills, demanding to be listened to. And at the centre of it all was Avalon, whose business was absolutely booming, supplying people with all sorts of new ways to use and perform with their magic. The shop came up in more than one debate. As Arthur thought he would, Uther dismissed it as barely legal and irresponsible. Kara claimed it was the spearhead of a new era of peace.

Arthur brought up his concerns to Uther after one such debate and was waved away just like Morgana. “It is always the people who know they are wrong who speak the loudest. We have more supporters than it seems, and they know that our aims are the right ones.”

Morgana grew quieter and quieter on each of their walks. One day, before she went inside, she turned on him with a firm stare. 

“It can’t go on like this, Arthur,” she said. “It can’t.”

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

Things have gotten really bad. I need your help. 

Are you still interested in meeting?

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

Yes. Just tell me when.

*****

The café was busier than usual that night, which only served to make Arthur more nervous. Any one of the people at the counter, mulling around, walking through the door, could be Emrys. Every man whose gaze so much as skimmed over him made Arthur’s heart flutter.

At the end of his table, Arthur had placed a small knight figurine like they’d agreed, which he had bought specifically for the occasion. He resisted the urge to fiddle with it, to make it more visible somehow, as if Emrys could be here and just not have seen it. But if someone was looking for it, they’d find it. He just wasn’t there yet.

He took tiny sips of his tea, determined not to finish it before Emrys arrived. He had to stop another group from taking his extra chair and explain to the waiter that yes, he _was_ expecting someone, they would be there soon. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling that he was (yet again) making a fool of himself.

Whoever Emrys was, he was _late_.

It was the most vulnerable Arthur had felt for a long time. Sitting there waiting like a nervous teenager for a person whose real name he didn’t even know. 

Then, just as he finally gave in and was adjusting the angle of the little knight, something truly awful happened.

Merlin Ambrosius came through the front door. 

A wave of panic overtook him as he scrambled for his phone and bent over it, trying to hide his face. This was the last thing Arthur needed. Given Merlin had disliked him even before Uther’s massive declaration, Arthur would be lucky to get through an interaction without receiving a black eye. 

For one glorious moment, as he scrolled blankly through random Facebook pictures, Arthur thought he might have gotten away unseen. That is, until he heard a set of footsteps draw closer and closer and stop right in front of his table. Arthur looked up to see Merlin leaning on the opposite chair with his elbows, coat slung over his forearm, hair mussed from the wind outside. Slightly overdressed for a coffee shop.

“Waiting for someone?” Merlin asked, a twinkle in his eye, like he was telling a joke Arthur didn’t understand.

Arthur cleared his throat and tried to pretend he hadn’t been hiding from him a moment ago. “Yes, actually. And he’ll be here soon, so…”

Merlin did the opposite of taking the hint— he pulled out the chair and sat down. “He won’t mind if I join you while you wait, will he?”

“ _I_ mind,” said Arthur through gritted teeth. “And leave that,” he added, grabbing the figurine back from Merlin, who had been looking at it with an odd sort of smile. 

“Is it a date you’re waiting for?” Merlin asked, folding his hands together on the table.

“None of your business.”

A waitress came by and smiled pleasantly at Merlin. “Tea for you as well?”

“Yes, please,” Merlin said, just as Arthur cut in with, “No, he’s not staying.”

Merlin grinned and insisted, “One milk, one sugar.”

The waitress glanced between them curiously before nodding and heading back towards the kitchen.

“You’re not staying,” Arthur said again. “You can’t be here when he arrives.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s expecting me to be alone! He might think I didn’t show.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “He wouldn’t recognize you?”

Perhaps this was some kind of cosmic punishment. Having to sit here and explain to the owner of a bloody magic shop, whose mere mention of made veins stand out in Uther’s forehead, the online quasi-romance he’d been a part of the last few months. 

“We haven’t— met. Exactly. Yet.”

“Mm, I see,” said Merlin. “Online dating. How modern of you.”

Arthur glared at him. “So you understand why you have to leave.”

Merlin put his hands up in a conciliatory gesture. The chair legs scraped as he got up. And for a second, Arthur thought it was over.

Until he realized Merlin had now chosen the table _directly behind him_ , putting the two of them back to back. Merlin twisted round in his new chair as Arthur scowled over his shoulder. “He could be anyone, you know.”

“I got that part, yes,” Arthur said flatly.

“I’m just saying. He could be some creepy murderer for all you know. He could have magic!”

A flush crept across the back of Arthur’s neck. He turned fully to reply. “I don’t care, alright? Why are you _still talking to me?_ ”

Merlin ignored the last part, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You would date a murderer?”

“You are being deliberately obtuse.”

“And you aren’t answering the question. A murderer, really?”

“No, you idiot,” Arthur said, irritated enough that he stood up and walked around Merlin’s table to sit opposite him once more. “He is not a murderer. In fact, I don’t think he has a mean-spirited bone in his entire body, to his occasional detriment. He is intelligent, and kind, and funny, and he _does_ have magic, so you can shut up about that, too.”

“And you’re still going to meet him?” There was a weight in Merlin’s voice that hadn’t been there previously. Like something actually hinged on the answer.

Arthur just gestured at himself pointedly. Merlin’s expression remained inscrutable. 

“What about Uther?”

“I am not my father.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow, not accepting the non-committal answer. “Mm. Just his manager.”

The entrance bell chimed. Arthur glanced at the door, but it was just a pair of teenage girls, giggling about something on their phones. Cold disappointment settled like a fog in his chest.

“Look,” he said to Merlin, “I may not agree with everything my father says, but I believe he wants what’s best for this country. It’s my job to support him. No matter what my personal feelings may be.”

“Even if it hurts people you care about.”

Arthur huffed an indignant laugh. “What does it matter to you, anyway? You know, not every magic-user is as obsessive as you are, trying to spread it around like some kind of disease. Some people like to have skills outside party tricks and the harming others. Perhaps you should learn them, since you soon won’t be able to use it at all.”

Merlin’s expression went more and more closed off the more Arthur spoke. At the end, he even looked angry.

“So you do agree with him, then.”

“What I think about it doesn’t matter.”

“Bullshit.” Merlin leaned forward, furious, and pointed his finger into the table as he spoke. “You know what I think? I think you don’t know who you are without your father telling you, and you’re terrified of finding out. I think you’re so desperate for his approval that you wouldn’t dare go against him, even if it could stop something awful from happening. Even if it could help a lot of people.”

“And I think you’ve mistaken me for someone who cares for the opinion of a power-corrupted sorcerer.”

Arthur regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. But if Uther had taught him anything, it was to cut straight to the bone. To never pull his punches.

Merlin drew back slow, like he was moving through thick sludge instead of air. That guilt wound in tighter on his lungs, bruising them, drawing blood. Silence was always so much worse than anger. 

“Good luck on your date,” said Merlin dully. 

As he walked away, Arthur wondered if he’d truly become his father after all.

*****

Arthur waited another hour after that. Emrys never came.

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I won’t ask what happened. 

Don’t get me wrong, I want to. Very badly. But I know that if I do, and I don’t like the answer, this whole thing may be ruined for me, which is the last thing I want. Talking with you has meant more to me than I can express. You’re not like anyone I’ve met in real life— you’re different. You’re refreshing. I go through each day taking note of little things to tell you about, and I wonder what you’ll say about them, and I wonder what’s happening to you. You make me want to question things I never would have before. You make me want to think deeply about my life. You make me want to be better.

I can’t lose that. 

Instead of you, I ran into someone who has made my life rather difficult. A person to whom I’ve shown the breadth of my worst qualities in very short periods of time. Tonight was no different. I was brisk. Unkind. Even cruel. And it came as easy as breathing. He didn’t deserve to be subjected to that.

I hate that person. The person my father trained me into. I don’t want to be him anymore, but I’ve no idea how to stop. Or where to start with being someone else.

Anyway. If it’s alright with you, I’ll just continue on with these messages like nothing’s happened, and hope I haven’t scared you off.

Keep talking to me, Emrys. I’d rather not be heartbroken over a person I’ve never met. 

*****

“So you’ve been seeing someone… online?”

“Yes,” said Arthur testily. “Sort of. Just talking, really.”

He’d explained the whole thing to Morgana on their usual walk to work. It had been nearly two full days since they had planned to meet, with still no response from Emrys, and Arthur had been desperate to talk to someone about it. Get an outside perspective, so he would feel less like he was spiraling into insanity. Frankly, it was an accomplishment that he’d kept it from her so long. It would only have been a matter of time before she would have wheedled it out of him anyway, and besides, he told Morgana everything.

“Like pen pals,” she said. Arthur could tell that she was trying not to smile. 

“I suppose.”

“And then he stood you up.”

Arthur grimaced. “I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”

Morgana gave him a flat look. “Sorry, is there another term for when you set a date with someone and they don’t show?”

Arthur pointedly didn’t answer. Morgana sighed.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but this tends to happen with online dating.” She put her hand on his arm in a rare conciliatory gesture. “People chicken out at the last minute, and then they don’t feel bad not telling you since you don’t know each other in real life. You’re not the first to find out that someone who seemed nice over text is actually a dick.”

“I don’t know. This didn’t feel like some random online date, it felt— special. He felt special.” 

Morgana pursed her lips sympathetically. They walked in silence for a while, listening to passing people’s conversations, to cabs honking, to sirens going off in the distance. But there was something more— another fear Arthur had, perhaps his biggest one, that Morgana was likely the only person on the planet to fully understand. He remembered the fury with which she’d spoken to his father, after his announcement, the pain in her eyes at his dismissal. He worked up his courage.

“Before I asked to meet him,” Arthur said, “he told me he had magic.”

Morgana’s head whipped around, eyes wide. Her whole body filled with tension, shoulders drawn together, arms stiff. But she didn’t reply.

“What if— what if he _did_ come that night, but he recognized me, and turned right around? And now he never wants to speak with me again?”

Morgana stared down at the sidewalk as she listened. When she looked back at him, her expression was sad. “Could you blame him if he did?”

The guilt felt like a living thing inside him. “No,” Arthur replied quietly. “I don’t think I could.”

*****

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

I want to keep talking to you, too. If you can forgive me for what happened. I won’t make excuses, but I will say that I’m truly sorry for hurting you, and for not being able to help you when you needed it. 

In regards to the trouble you ran into instead: I doubt you were the only one not on best form. If they knew the effect they’ve had on your life, then they shouldn’t have approached you in the first place. You were forced into a situation you didn’t expect, faced with a person you didn’t trust instead of one you did, and that’s not your fault. It’s only natural to be defensive when you’re vulnerable. I certainly am, though I’m loathe to admit it. I don’t believe that our true selves are the ones we are in our worst moments.

But in the spirit of pretending nothing’s happened, I’ll tell you what I would have told you if you’d sent me this story any other day. That that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. You made the choice last night to slip into your father’s version of you. And that was the easy choice. Next time, make the hard one. Fight against that version. Find where your true loyalties lie and stand by them to the end. If you’re better than him, then prove it. We are not our worst moments, but we are the recoveries that come after, and we are the ways we take our wrongs and make them right.

Good luck.

*****

Arthur had always found Sunday dinners at his father’s rather awkward, but he was certain the upcoming one would be closer to excruciating. Things between Uther and Morgana were still tense, to say the least, not to mention Arthur’s own growing crisis about whether or not to go against him.

He had Emrys’s last message practically memorized with how much he’d read it over; at first glad to even have gotten a response, then a little disappointed when he actually didn’t give a reason for not being there, and then guilty over his interaction with Merlin all over again. He hadn’t created Avalon specifically to spite Arthur, much as it had felt like it. And much as he had the innate ability to find every single one of Arthur’s buttons, he had also been sort of friendly, and helpful. It wasn’t his fault that Arthur was… Arthur.

At the very least, the message made Arthur wonder about himself. Writing about being different and actually doing it were two very different things. He was terrified that he wouldn’t be able to do it. That Emrys’s faith in him was entirely misplaced.

But there was another part of him. A part that had known from the moment the words had left Uther’s lips that he was wrong. A part that, deep down, understood that Uther’s vendetta against magic had nothing to do with safety and everything to do with Ygraine. A part he was angry with himself for ignoring for so long. A part he was determined to start listening to.

He was still reciting lines of the message to himself as he stepped out of his shoes in the foyer of his childhood home. It was a spacious, echoey place, sparsely decorated with crystal chandeliers and sleek furniture and pristinely white walls. The heating had broken once, when Arthur was young, and the problem had never quite been fixed properly. The tips of his fingers and toes were always cold when he was here.

The beads on the strap of Morgana’s bag made a clicking noise as she fiddled with it. They’d driven here together, and she’d seemed more distracted than usual, giving only a faintly interested hum when he’d told her about Emrys’s response. She always looked professional, but now she was practically deadly, with sharp eyeliner and a perfectly cut blazer. Like she was going into the biggest meeting she’d ever had. 

Why dinner at their father’s warranted that much effort, Arthur didn’t know, but he’d learned long ago not to question Morgana about such things.

The head of the table was empty when Arthur and Morgana took their seats across from each other; the butler, Geoffrey, explained that Uther was on a call, and that they were permitted to start without him.

Arthur dug in immediately. As he tucked back a few heaping forkfuls of mashed potatoes, he considered what he should say back to Emrys. They’d agreed to go on as usual, so did that mean he should just start from scratch, tell him about ordinary things? Or was he supposed to prove that he was following through on his desire to change?

He speared a green bean thoughtfully, then glanced over at Morgana, hoping to get her advice.

She’d hardly touched anything. Arthur watched as she bit into the end of a bean delicately, only to put her fork back down with a grimace, then rub her palms against her thighs. 

“What’s the matter with you?” he asked. Morgana’s fidgeting froze.

“Nothing.”

“No, come on, out with it. Why are you acting so strange?”

Morgana glared at him. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m _not._ ”

“When you were young, I wondered if you two would grow out of the bickering.” Uther walked in smiling from the opposite room, dusting his hands together. “And yet here you are.”

Morgana straightened up immediately. Arthur frowned at her. This was not the first time she and Uther had had a disagreement— in fact, it seemed like they arrived at dinner at least once a month having shouted each other deaf the last time they saw each other. But she had always had a cold dignity about her afterwards, an icy pride that made those suppers almost entirely silent. This was different. If Arthur didn’t know better, he would say she was nervous. It set him on edge. 

“There was no need to wait for me, Morgana,” Uther continued as he sat down. She smiled tightly at him. If he noticed her strange demeanor, he didn’t show it. 

The three of them stumbled through some small talk for a while. Asking Morgana how her work was going. Asking Arthur for updates on the minutia of the campaign. Ignoring the elephant in the room was a Pendragon speciality, after all.

But in an especially long moment of quiet, Morgana stopped. When Arthur saw her take in a deep breath, he got the feeling that whatever came next would be important.

“I want to talk about your next term,” she said, lifting her chin. Arthur’s stomach dropped. He wasn’t ready for this conversation yet.

Uther waved her on, unconcerned. “Speak your mind.”

“Don’t you think,” she asked, firm now that she’d decided to speak up, “that criminalizing magic is a bit extreme?”

Uther’s chewing slowed. The pleasantness drained from his face. “We’ve talked about this already, Morgana. My mind is made up.”

“Unmake it. The people are speaking up— they’re speaking against you. They’re afraid for their families, their friends, their loved ones, can’t you see that?”

“They’ve no reason to be afraid if they stop using magic.”

“Some of them may not have a choice!” Morgana cried. “People are already ashamed of their magic as it is. They shouldn’t have to hide who they are!”

Uther’s expression was growing thunderous. “I don’t know why you’ve taken so strongly to this issue, Morgana, but I’ve heard enough. You clearly don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Morgana’s eyes flashed furiously. “Don’t I?” 

She shot up to her feet. The legs of her chair screeched against the floor as it was pushed back. As she lifted her hand, Arthur realized what was about to happen a moment before it did. And a lot of things started to make painful sense.

She didn’t use a spell, but her eyes lit up gold all the same. The flames of the candles in the centre of the table jumped up into hot columns of fire, nearly scorching the ceiling before receding to their original height. 

The dining room went utterly silent. A hot line of light was seared into Arthur’s retinas as he stared, transfixed, at the candles. Though he’d seen it coming, it felt impossible. Surely this couldn’t have happened. Surely it was some kind of fluke. Morgana couldn’t have magic.

By the time he had the good sense to look up, Uther was a portrait of quiet rage. Morgana, despite the tears in her eyes, had her head held high. _There_ was the pride. 

“If you condemn magic-users, you condemn your own daughter,” she said. Her voice didn’t waver in the slightest.

Uther, stone-faced, looked straight back at her and said, “No daughter of mine uses magic.”

Morgana blinked. Then she nodded to herself, swung her purse over her shoulder and strode out of the room.

Which is when Arthur realized he still hadn’t said anything. Uther took a few breaths, processing, then continued eating. He didn’t even look over to check Arthur’s reaction. And Arthur knew, all of a sudden, why not. His father assumed that he would be on his side. Arthur had never given him a reason not to.

So in the end, it wasn’t hard at all to stand up and tell Uther he could find himself a new campaign manager.

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I did it. It’s not enough yet, and there’s still a ways to go, but… it’s a start.

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

How did it feel?

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

Like I was finally doing something right.

*****

Arthur hadn’t remembered the doors to Avalon being so intimidating. Old, sure, wooden and well-made, but that had been nice. Charming, even. Now, they seemed like a pair of shadows looming over him, daring him to try and enter where he wasn’t welcome.

He steeled himself and pushed inside.

It was certainly quieter than their opening day, and there were definitively less pyrotechnics, but there was still a steady stream of customers perusing the shelves. Arthur kept his eyes down and hunched his shoulders. Though he was no longer concerned about reflecting badly on his father, he knew his presence might still make people uncomfortable, so it was probably still for the best if he wasn’t recognized.

He remembered the awe on Morgana’s face when they were first here and felt another punch of shame. No wonder she’d been so insistent on exploring. “Scouting” indeed.

The little dragons were exactly where he remembered. The red and black ones tussled on the ground while the white one watched. They didn’t seem bothered by his presence, if they noticed him at all. Arthur crouched down next to them. The white one curled its head towards him. 

“Hello Aithusa,” whispered Arthur.

She blinked at him. 

“Look, I’ve been a bit of a prick to my sister,” he continued, “and I was hoping you’d be able to help me out. You remember her? Morgana?”

At the sound of Morgana’s name, Aithusa scurried forward so her snout nearly pressed up against the glass. Arthur grinned.

“Thought you might. You two made a connection, right?” 

She huffed a breath made of sparks. Arthur nodded, then pushed himself back up to his feet. He did a quick scan of the store, trying to find an employee.

Except, of course, he didn’t lock eyes with any old worker. He locked eyes with Merlin, who stared back at him with thinly-veiled surprise.

“Arthur?” He re-shelved the book he was looking at and approached slowly, head tilted, curious. “What are you doing here?”

Arthur slipped his hands into his coat pockets and searched for a way to best explain his presence. Merlin’s eyes were narrowed, and he looked apprehensive, which he supposed was only fair after everything. Words from one of their less adversarial meetings surfaced in his mind and he realized that they summed up his intentions quite nicely.

“Paying it forward,” Arthur said. “Properly. Or trying to, at least.”

Merlin gave him an appraising look. Aithusa made a chirping sound, clearly not pleased to be ignored now that Arthur had mentioned Morgana. As Merlin’s gaze shifted to her, his gold dragon soared down from the balcony to land on his arm. Arthur swallowed a spike of instinctive fear at its rapid movements. 

“Dragons only bond with people of magic,” Merlin said, petting along Kilgharrah’s spine. He glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. “I wondered, on your first visit with your sister… but that’s why you’re here, isn’t it. For Aithusa. For Morgana.”

Arthur blinked. “How did you—”

“Gwen told me what happened. You did a good thing.”

“I should have done it a long time ago.” Then Arthur pursed his lips, thinking. “Em, about the other night—”

Merlin waved the beginnings of the apology away. “Don’t worry about it. This—” he pointed at Aithusa— “is more than enough to make up for it.”

From there, Merlin took him around the store, collecting all the things he would need, including a few bags of feed and some toys for her to play with, a few books about her care, and a bed that looked rather more comfortable than Arthur’s own. He talked him through some of the basic procedures so he could pass them along to Morgana and made him promise to call the store if anything bad happened. By the time they finished, Arthur felt like he was carrying half the inventory of the place. 

He peeked over the top of a few boxes as Merlin opened the dragon enclosure and spoke to Aithusa in a deep, raspy voice. When he finished, she took off into the air, nearly startling Arthur into dropping everything.She circled around below the domed ceiling for a moment before coasting down to land on Arthur’s _head._ Merlin had the gall to laugh. 

“Here,” he said, and he stuck his hand out at Arthur. His eyes flashed gold. All the toys, bags of food, books and supplies floated out of Arthur’s arms and above his head. Now that there was room for her, Aithusa scrambled down to be held. All his items bobbed up and down rhythmically as though on a surface of water. 

“Hang on,” Arthur said, “could you have done that all along?”

Merlin shrugged innocently, but his smirk gave him away.

“So I didn’t have to lug all that round the store, then.”

“I forgot the spell,” Merlin said, still grinning.

Arthur let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “You bastard!”

Merlin’s smile crinkled his whole face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Arthur felt light as Merlin led him to the cash register. Like making up with him had lifted some great weight off his chest. He balanced Aithusa in the crook of his elbow as he handed over his credit card and watched Merlin swipe it through, dark hair falling across his forehead, remnants of laughter in the quirk of his lips. His heart clenched suddenly, and he had the overwhelming sensation that he’d missed out on something incredible.

“There you are.” Merlin passed his card back and with a flick of his wrist had Arthur’s things floating towards the door to pack themselves into his car. Arthur tucked his wallet away and paused.

“Did you ever think,” Arthur said slowly, holding Aithusa tighter on instinct, “that maybe if— if I hadn’t been me, and you hadn’t been you, then…”

Merlin went still. After a beat, his expression softened. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Arthur nodded to himself, gave Merlin one last smile, and then carried Aithusa out to his car.

*****

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

Alright, I know I moaned on forever about people being simple, and that sometimes you should trust your gut about them being bad for you, and that a reputation can be completely spot-on.

And that’s true a lot of the time.

But when people really do surprise you? When they prove you wrong? 

That’s the best feeling in the world. 

*****

Morgana cried when Arthur surprised her with Aithusa. He couldn’t remember the last time she hugged him so tight, her perfect image of control cracking, and Arthur teared up too, in spite of himself.

They talked for a long, long time.

And when she conjured tiny fireworks above her palms, Arthur watched in awe.

*****

Uther lost the election.

Morgana hosted a whole array of people to watch the results, including Gwen and Merlin. They sat in silence, gathered in front of the telly, barely daring to breathe. Arthur felt nauseous. When they announced Kara’s victory, Morgana squeezed his hand tight, and Gwen poured them all champagne. 

Arthur glanced over at Merlin, only to find him already looking at him. Something passed between them— a mutual sympathy and a mutual relief. Merlin raised his glass. Arthur did the same. 

Kara appeared on screen soon after to make a speech. Arthur stepped outside to phone his father. No response. A pang of sadness echoed in his chest. 

*****

The downside to denouncing your father’s political views and telling him in a rather dramatic fashion that you won’t work for him anymore was, Arthur found out, unemployment.

Things were far from dire, and he had a few promising prospects, but for the time being he was stuck in a sort of in-between. Nothing to do all day except lie on the couch and refresh his inbox over and over and over.

He and Emrys had been exchanging messages more frequently than ever before (partly due to Arthur’s newfound free time), which only made Arthur wonder about him more. Without his advice, Arthur could have been in a very different situation— perhaps he and Morgana wouldn’t even be speaking. What could he be like, this person who had changed him so irrevocably? How would his voice sound? How would he hold himself? Would he look at Arthur with the same mix of humour and patience that Merlin did? And why on earth would that last bit matter?

On one particularly slow day, when Arthur was dressed in sweatpants and a ratty tee and watching horrid Christmas rom-coms, there was a knock at his door. He sat up in one swift motion, like he’d just woken out of a bad dream, certain he’d misheard. 

But it came again. Insistent. “It’s Merlin!”

Arthur swung his legs over the side of the couch. He took quick stock of the state of his flat— which was a disaster— and made a mad dash to grab every wad of tissues and empty wrapper in sight. He nearly knocked over a mug full of old tea on his coffee table, so he came back around to grab it and dump it in the sink, pouring dish soap into the bottom of it. There were at least three separate blankets draped over random furniture which he bundled up and shoved in the nearest drawer. 

“Arthur?” 

“Give me a minute, will you?”

He balanced a few stacks of dirty plates and bowls on his counter, pulled his sock up with a hooked finger where it had fallen off his heel, then opened the door. Merlin greeted him with raised eyebrows. He was holding a large tupperware and tapping it against his fingers.

“You forgot this,” Merlin said, gesturing with it. “At Morgana’s. I offered to bring it over.”

“Er, thanks.” Arthur took it from him, and fully intended to shut the door and have that be the end of it, when Merlin strolled past him and into the living room. Arthur shook his head at Merlin’s back in amazement. 

“Nice flat,” Merlin said. Arthur thanked all the gods that he’d thought to tidy. Merlin glanced over his shoulder with a teasing look. “Bit of a shock to see you in sweats, though. I sort of wondered whether you would walk around your own place business casual.”

Arthur scowled. “Did you need something?”

Merlin continued inside as though Arthur wasn’t speaking. He gave a low whistle when he saw the movie. “Really? ‘While You Were Sleeping’ is your go to?”

“Shut up.”

“No, it’s great, just surprising. Sandra Bullock. Classic.”

“I’m just full of surprises today, am I?” said Arthur sarcastically.

Merlin grinned, and Arthur’s stomach flipped. “Aren’t you always?”

Before Arthur could parse _that_ particular statement, Merlin had moved on to his computer. Which he’d left open on AlbionOnline. Shite.

“Oh, exciting! This is that bloke, isn’t it?” Merlin said, pointing at the screen.

“What bloke?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “You know perfectly well what bloke. The one from the café. The one you were waiting for, your online date.”

Arthur came up beside him and shut the lid of the laptop firmly. “Yes, alright, it’s him. Would you leave it?”

“Whatever happened with that, anyway?” Merlin asked, unperturbed.

Arthur pursed his lips. “He couldn’t be there.”

“So he stood you up.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Arthur carried his laptop into his bedroom. Merlin trailed behind him. As he plugged it in to charge, Merlin leaned against the doorframe. 

“He stood you up, and you’re still messaging him? That’s gotta be some kind of masochism.”

“It’s not,” Arthur grumbled. “He’s nice to talk to.” 

Merlin hummed. More seriously, he said, “You really like him, don't you?”

Arthur turned from the desk where he’d placed his laptop to face him. It was true— he didn’t think anyone understood him like Emrys did. He wasn’t sure he wanted anyone to. After all this time, Arthur had the scary sense that he’d fall straight in love with him as soon as lay eyes on him. 

Arthur sighed. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Merlin pushed his bottom lip out contemplatively. “Maybe you should… try to meet him again.”

“Now _that_ would be masochistic.” 

“Come on, why not?” Merlin came towards him insistently. “If you're so head over heels for him—,”

“I’m not head over heels,” Arthur protested, flushing— 

“— then you should at least try. Or is your plan just to write him over the internet for the rest of your life?”

Arthur glared. That was, in fact, his plan, but there was no need to tell Merlin that. He had no idea why Merlin even cared so much in the first place. Instead of answering, he changed the subject.

“Why are you here?” he asked, noticing for the first time just how close Merlin had gotten. Merlin shrugged.

“To bring back your tupperware.” Arthur gave him a look. He smiled. “And because I want to be your friend.”

Arthur stared. Without thinking, he blurted, “Why?”

Merlin’s gaze was intense. They were only inches apart. Not knowing why, Arthur held his breath. 

“Because you keep surprising me,” Merlin said. Arthur’s heart skipped a beat. Then he backed away and the moment was gone, that mysterious knowing twinkle back in his eye. “Anyway, I should go. They’re expecting me back at the shop.”

“Right,” Arthur said, still reeling. Merlin gave a little wave and let himself out.

And Arthur was left to wonder why those words sounded so familiar.

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I know it didn’t exactly work out last time, but— what would you say if I asked to meet again?

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

I want to meet you, too. So I would say yes. But I’m testing out a theory right now, and I need more time. I’ll let you know when it’s finished.

*****

“Testing out a theory? What kind of an excuse is that?”

Arthur laughed. He and Merlin had ran into each other at the park, and this time Arthur hadn’t tried to hide behind a tree. The air was crisply autumnal and the trees were aflame with orange and red leaves. Kilgharrah swooped in lazy circles above their heads as they walked.

“I’m just telling you what he said. I don’t know what it means.”

“Maybe he’s already got a boyfriend,” Merlin mused, “and he’s trying to decide whether to dump him for you or not. Maybe he’s _married_.”

“No way.” Arthur shook his head. “I would know.”

“How?”

“I just would! He’s not that kind of person.”

“If you say so.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes and pretended like that hadn’t just planted a seed of niggling doubt. Merlin called Kilgharrah down, but he soared into Arthur’s arms instead of his.

“Think your dragon likes me better,” said Arthur smugly. 

Merlin bent to look Kilgharrah in the eyes. “Traitor.”

Kilgharrah just puffed smoke out of his nostrils. 

*****

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

…you’re not seeing anyone, are you? Or married? 

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

So little faith in me, SirKnight. And after all we’ve been through! You wound me, you really do. 

I hope you don’t think that’s why we haven’t met yet. It’s not. And we will soon, I promise. So tell your nosy friends to mind their own business!

*****

“Still sounds like a cover-up to me,” said Merlin later that week. 

They happened to be at the grocery store at the same time and were strolling through the aisles together, baskets in hand. Arthur checked an apple for bruises and smirked.

“You’re just mad he figured you out.”

“Perhaps.” Merlin took an apple for himself, tossed it in the air and caught it. Then a thought seemed to occur to him. “And you still don’t know each other’s names! I mean, how will you even find each other when you _do_ meet? If he doesn’t keep you waiting for the rest of your life, that is.”

Arthur grabbed the apple out of the air the next time Merlin threw it and put it in his basket. Merlin stuck out his tongue. “I’ll know him when I see him.”

That made Merlin smile extra wide. “Will you now?”

“Yep,” said Arthur, popping the p.

“And then you’ll, what, call each other by your usernames for the rest of your lives?” 

Arthur ignored him. Merlin nudged him with his elbow.

“Come on, you haven’t even told me what they are.” Merlin made a show of tapping his chin with his finger in thought. “Let me guess. You’re PratFace101, and he’s InternetCreeper69.”

“ _No_ ,” said Arthur. He opened the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk.

“CabbageHead and Serial_Killer.”

“Merlin—”

“Oh! CabbageHead and Serial_Killer with a 5 for the S and a 1 for the I.”

“It’s EmrysHimself!” said Arthur, whirling around. “Alright?”

Merlin raised his hands placatingly. “What about yours?”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up. “None of your business.”

Merlin let it go. They kept chatting as they went, teasing each other, tossing random things into the other’s basket that they definitely didn’t need. If Arthur didn’t know any better, he would say it was… flirtatious. Which was ridiculous, since Merlin was rooting for his relationship with Emrys. Wasn’t he?

“Hey,” said Merlin, after they paid and were about to split off to their cars. “You know they’ve got a lunch special at that café on Saturdays.”

Arthur paused. A warm feeling spread through his body, to the tips of his fingers and toes. He smiled. “See you then.”

*****

TO: SirKnight

FROM: EmrysHimself

Are you free to meet on Saturday? There’s a park near that magic shop, the one with the dragons, and it’s lovely in the fall. I’ll be there at 4 if you say yes.

Please say yes.

Arthur read the message over twice more, then groaned and dragged his hands down his face. 

What was he _doing_? He’d been dying to meet Emrys for months, and now that it might actually happen, he was getting cold feet.

It was all Merlin’s fault. Him and his smooth skin and big blue eyes and long fingers and— _god_. It wasn’t fair. All this time he’d spent pining for Emrys and now he was having feelings for someone else. Someone who, however pure his intentions may have been, had made his life extraordinarily difficult. 

The worst thing, however, was the little voice suggesting a possibility that would make things all too easy. Something much too good to be true. Something that Arthur _could not_ let himself dwell on, because if he started to get his hopes up, and then got there and it wasn’t him— well. That could very well crush him

(It would make sense, though, wouldn’t it? said the voice. Magic was important to both of them. And he was there, that night. Why would he be so interested, otherwise? Why—

Shut up, Arthur told it, shut up shut up shut up.)

Arthur clicked the reply button and rested his hands on the keys. Perhaps in another life, things could have been different with Merlin. Being friends at all was a miracle given their history. He couldn’t throw everything away with Emrys because of a crush that would fade soon enough.

TO: EmrysHimself

FROM: SirKnight

I’ll be there.

*****

“So it’s really happening, then,” Merlin said after a sip of tea. They’d taken a thermos each to go from the café and were walking back towards Arthur’s place together. 

“I think so,” Arthur said. He had been very strict on himself not to overanalyze all of Merlin’s reactions, and so he kept his gaze straight forward so as not to see his expression.

“If he’s asked to meet you in the park, he must live nearby,” Merlin theorized. He elbowed Arthur and pointed across the street to an elderly man sitting on a bench. “It could be him!” Arthur elbowed him back hard. Merlin pointed to another man who passed them on the sidewalk. “Or him!”

“You’re a menace.”

“I’m just saying. You might even have met him before!”

That broke Arthur’s resolve. He gave Merlin a long hard look, but the man was unreadable.

“Seriously, though,” Merlin said. “This guy has planned it out perfectly. He’s made you wait ages just to meet him, and he’s built your expectations up higher and higher so that now you can, you’re convinced he’s your soulmate.”

“So?”

“So, what if he’s _not_ everything you’re hoping for? What if he disappoints you?”

(What if, said the voice. Shut _up_ , Arthur told it.)

Arthur took a deep breath and looked Merlin square in the eye. “He won’t.”

They’d reached the outside of Arthur’s building. The streets were quiet that afternoon, so there was only the sound of birds chirping as they stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Arthur hesitated, then went up the first step. “I should probably—”

“Arthur.” Merlin grabbed his wrist, and his touch sent electricity all through his body. Arthur turned back, wavering. “You should know— it’s like what you said, for me. If you hadn’t been you, I— I would’ve asked you out the day I met you at Gwen’s.” Arthur inhaled sharply. “I would’ve moaned at her for not introducing us sooner, I would’ve— taken you to meet my mum for dinner, would’ve made you sit through demonstrations at Avalon and then made you flowers out of thin air in front of everyone. And we never would have fought, except over the stupid things we do now.”

Arthur’s heart was in his throat. When he spoke, it came out all choked. “Merlin—”

But he still wasn’t done. “I mean, if you can see past this person standing you up,” he said in a tone too strained to be light-hearted, “I don’t know why you can’t see past that small thing where I… ruined your father’s political career.”

“I—” An alarm went off on Arthur’s phone: a reminder for his meeting with Emrys. He looked at Merlin half-desperately. “I have to go.”

Merlin nodded, then released his wrist. “I’ll see you later.”

Arthur watched him walk away until he disappeared around a corner, running his thumb over where he’d held him the whole way.

*****

The park was just as quiet as the streets. Leaves crunched under Arthur’s feet as he walked along the path, trying to calm his raging pulse. He didn’t think he’d ever been so nervous in his life.

They’d agreed to meet beside one of the biggest trees in the park, which sat at the bottom of a hill. If Emrys was true to his word, he’d be waiting there when Arthur arrived. As he walked up the side of it, the voice got louder and louder in his head.

(What if, what if, what if, it chanted. Arthur didn’t have the heart to tell it off. He wanted it too badly.)

When he reached the top of the hill, he closed his eyes, not yet daring to look. He took a deep breath. He let himself hope. And then he opened them.

Merlin was leaning against the trunk of the tree. In his hands was a knight figurine identical to the one Arthur had had in the café. 

An overwhelming giddiness radiated through Arthur’s body. He made his way down the hill slowly, taking in the moment and just looking at Merlin, letting the happiness wash through him. When Merlin saw him, he straightened up immediately. Equally as nervous. 

“Hello, SirKnight,” he said when Arthur drew near. He gave a teasing shallow bow, but his expression was apprehensive. Arthur just stared at him. 

Merlin ducked his head.

“I know this probably wasn’t what you were expecting,” he said, “but I—”

“You’re an idiot,” Arthur interrupted. “ _Emrys_.”

Merlin’s lips pressed into a grim line. “I’m sorry I lied to you, and I— I understand if this changes things for you—”

Arthur strode forward, dragged Merlin down by the lapels and kissed him. Merlin returned it straight away, bringing his hands to rest on Arthur’s hips. 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, breaking away. Merlin hummed distractedly and kissed him again. Arthur backed away again and laughed. “Hang on for a minute, will you?”

Merlin rested his forehead on Arthur’s, his whole face crinkled into a smile. Arthur palmed his cheek and drew back a bit so they locked eyes. 

“I don’t know what I would have done,” he whispered, “if it hadn’t been you.”

That earned him the biggest smile to date. Arthur leaned in and kissed it right off his face.

“I’ll be expecting those flowers out of thin air any minute now, by the way. Just so you know.”

Emrys— Merlin— laughed and obliged.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, and please go check out all the other works in the Hols Exchange, it's been a pleasure to be a part of it!
> 
> Comments are everything :)


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